Harlequin Superromance March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Secrets of Her PastA Real Live HeroIn Her Corner

by EMILIE ROSE

  “No. But we’re lucky it wasn’t an entire tree. The ground is saturated from all the recent rain and oaks have shallow root systems. With winds like this it’s not unusual for them to topple over.” She opened the window and waited. He didn’t know for what.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Listening for the cry of a critter that needs rescuing. I’m glad we landed before the worst of the storm hit.” She closed the window, then wrapped her arms around her middle. Their shoulders brushed.

  Awareness jolted him like an electric charge. “The storm rattled you.”

  “Didn’t it you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wasn’t sure we’d make it,” she confessed with obvious reluctance.

  His brother would have blustered about being in control the whole time, never admitting weakness, fear or being wrong. Well, he wasn’t Andrew. “There were moments I had my doubts.”

  “You never let on.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily. And I was too busy praying.” He added the last as an attempt at humor.

  A smile tweaked a corner of her mouth. “Me, too.”

  In that moment he realized he actually liked Madison. Given other circumstances and other histories, he’d have wanted to know her better.

  Something changed as they stood staring at each other. Then her lips parted and her pupils expanded, telling him something he didn’t want to know. Ever since that kiss he’d wondered if he was the only one hijacked by an attraction he shouldn’t feel.

  Negative. The electrical charge sparked between them now.

  The small circle of lamplight intensified the intimacy of their situation and sharpened his senses. Here in her room, with her bed only feet away, her scent was stronger, more potent, but still subtle. Her warmth trespassed into his space and sweat beaded on his back and streaked downward, making him glad he’d put on his shirt before eating ice cream.

  He wanted to blame his overheated status on the power outage that had shut down the air-conditioning. But what tugged at him was the same unexplainable magnetic pull that had grabbed him in the workroom at his father’s office. He hadn’t understood it then and couldn’t explain it now. All he knew was that he wanted her. Madison. A woman who was off-limits.

  A smart man would retreat before he did something stupid like stroke the worry from her brow or rescue her bottom lip from the pinch of her teeth. His feet ignored his order to leave.

  Who was this woman who fiercely protected the ones no one else wanted? She appeared tough on the outside, but was loving and loyal to her collection of rejects. And while she had every reason to keep giving his family the cold shoulder, she’d been far nicer to his mother than she deserved.

  He was undeniably drawn to Madison. She was a walking contradiction, an enigma he wanted to figure out.

  The hollows of her cheeks appeared deeper in the dim light, as did the dip between her mouth and chin. He traced the former, then the latter. Her breath hitched. The pulse at the base of her neck fluttered wildly beneath his fingertip.

  “Adam.” Her voice was more plea than protest.

  She tilted her head in invitation. Even as he told himself he shouldn’t, his fingers slipped into her silky hair and he lowered his head. Her lids drifted closed a split second before his lips brushed her brow, her cheek, the bridge of her nose.

  Then he discovered the flavors of sweet cream and peach lingering on her mouth, but her flesh was anything but cold like the ice cream. The heat of her tongue touched his and hunger engulfed him.

  She wound her arms around his waist and fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling him closer. Close enough that her breasts pressed into his chest, burning him through the thin layers of their clothing. Close enough that her hips nudged his.

  Close enough and yet not nearly close enough.

  Arousal rushed through his veins with every accelerating beat of his heart. He bunched his fists in her hair, kissing her harder, deeper. She mirrored his actions, fueling the fire in his gut as she met him stroke for stroke. He skimmed his palms down her back. She shifted against him until the softness of her mound cradled his thickening flesh. A mew of approval slipped from her mouth into his. She shivered, then kneaded him like a cat with her short nails. Now he knew why cats purred.

  Her touch, her kisses, shouldn’t feel this good. They shouldn’t make him this hot or make him want this badly. This wasn’t right. He knew it. Damn it, he knew. But he couldn’t push her away. He unknotted her belt, then shoved the robe aside and found the hot sliver of skin between her pajama top and bottom. Her muscles rippled beneath his fingertips.

  She reciprocated by plowing her hands under his T-shirt. Her delicate touch along his ribs sent a shudder racking through him. She caught his hands, stilling them and flattening them over her hip bones. He battled resignation, regret, unsatisfied desire and disappointment. Stopping was the right thing to do. Even if it would likely cripple him.

  She slowly guided him upward, inch by tantalizing inch, along her waist, over her rib cage, until he cupped her breasts. She broke the kiss with a gasp. Her desire-filled eyes found his, and the hunger in their depths knocked the breath from him. He simply savored her shape, then he circled his palms, allowing her taut tips to tease him. Each go-round coiled his body into a tighter spiral of need and took him closer to the point of no return. All the while he held her gaze, watching her eyelids grow heavier.

  Then she blinked and her fingertips skimmed a trail across his back, his sides, his abdomen, searing him. She outlined his navel and his muscles jumped, flicked his nipples and his insides fisted. She shrugged out of her robe and pushed at his shirt, urging it over his head. He stripped his away, then hers, and drank in the sight of her.

  She had curves where a woman should. Her breasts were small but perfectly formed, the tips puckering and begging for attention. Her waist dipped in, then eased back out to hips that held up her low-riding pajama pants. The drawstring tied below her navel riveted his attention. He wanted to unwrap the rest of her, to taste all of her.

  “Adam, I need...” Her eyes closed, opened, and the want in them rocked him to the core. She gulped air. “I need you to hold me.”

  He didn’t have to be asked twice. She stepped into his arms, fusing her body to his. The intense heat of her skin melding to his hit him like nothing he’d ever experienced. The fusion of their lips was just as potent. His head spun. His lungs tightened. He’d had no idea the groove below his pectorals was an erogenous zone until her nipples brushed him there and sucked the air from the room. Everywhere he touched was as smooth as satin, only warmer.

  Soft lips found his collarbone, teasing him with a series of butterfly kisses, then her tongue traveled the same path. He gripped her bottom. Her muscles tensed and she swayed against him, back and forth like a pendulum, multiplying his need exponentially until all he could think of was satisfying this overwhelming craving for her. He struggled for balance and restraint, but he was on a slippery slope.

  He stroked the length of her thighs left bare by her short pajama bottoms, up and down until he became entangled in the fabric. Frustrated by the barrier, he stabbed his hands beneath the waistband. Her butt was smooth, warm, firm. Her shuddery gasps rewarded him when he traced the skin beneath her hip bone, then found curls.

  He palmed the texture, finding the way it tickled his hand incredibly arousing and erotic. He hadn’t been with a woman who didn’t shave her intimate area in a long time. And then he discovered the slick crease. She jerked in his arms then widened her stance, giving him better access. Her tongue found his nipple and mimicked the circles he drew on her tender flesh, shocking him with a current of desire. Her breaths quickened. Her body stiffened. Her teeth grazed gently, and he almost lost it. Clamping his jaw, he battled his way back from the edge.

  A moment later she buried he
r face in his chest and clung to his shoulders. Spasms of release shook her and a whimper escaped her hot mouth. Then her knees buckled. He caught her, swept her into his arms and placed her on the bed. A split second later his jeans were on the floor.

  She lay there, long and lean and beautiful, her dark hair spilling across the quilt. He wanted to be against every inch of her. He yanked her drawstring, then stripped her bottoms. She sat up, reaching for him and encircling his erection. She stroked him with one hand and hooked the other around his hip, urging him closer. He teetered on the verge of control. He wanted to bury his face in those dark curls and taste her, but he couldn’t wait another second. He joined her on the bed, parted her thighs and drove into her.

  Slick heat welcomed him and overwhelmed him. He tried to slow his movements, tried to tamp down his rapid response by focusing on her pleasure. But he couldn’t douse the flames. She had her eyes closed, her head thrown back and her spine arched as he sank into her again and again. He bent to capture a nipple, to suckle and nip one tip then the other. Her moan and the embrace of her inner muscles rewarded him.

  In the near darkness he could see the flush of her approaching release on her chest, rising to her face. Then it hit her and she cried out. Her orgasm was a beautiful thing. Contraction after contraction squeezed him, then she relaxed and her eyes fluttered open.

  With pupils expanded and lips parted, she caressed his biceps, his pectorals. Her nails flicked his nipples and an electric sensation shot straight to his groin. Her smooth legs twined around him, pulling him even deeper. She grasped his butt with her strong hands, digging in her short nails as another orgasm rocked her. Release exploded from him, gushing like a broken dam until he was spent, empty, drained.

  He collapsed to his elbows and tried to right his world. Tried to figure out what in the hell had happened. Sex had never been that powerful for him.

  Sex. With his brother’s wife.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SHAME, REGRET AND panic set in before Madison’s skin dried. She had turned to the one man she never should have for solace.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what—” Mortification stole her words. She let her legs fall back to the mattress. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  Adam went rigid above her. “No.”

  He rolled to his side, his neutral tone giving nothing away. Unable to look at him, she closed her eyes and scooted to the edge of the bed. She grabbed the corner of the quilt in an attempt to cover herself, but it wouldn’t budge. He was lying on it. She yearned to escape, but her robe was on the floor on his side of the bed. Retreating meant brazenly circling the room naked. She didn’t have the guts.

  “I’m not...usually like that. The flight... The storm... I thought we were going to die.”

  “Were you pretending I was Andrew?” His clipped words cut straight to her heart.

  Shocked that the idea had even occurred to him, Madison gaped at him for a full ten racing heartbeats. The easy way out of her embarrassment would be to say yes. But even if it was true—and it wasn’t—she couldn’t do that to Adam. Nothing about Adam felt like Andrew. Smelled like Andrew. Tasted like Andrew. Adam was stronger, more passionate, more...everything. How could two men with identical DNA be so dissimilar and affect her so differently?

  She raked back her hair. Her fingers caught in the tangles they’d made. Wishing she could selfishly lie to save face, she reluctantly looked into those familiar and yet unfamiliar blue-green eyes in the flickering light. But with the lamp behind him, she couldn’t even begin to decipher the emotions behind that shadowed, probing stare.

  “Adam, your brother never crossed my mind.”

  He held her gaze for several tense seconds as if weighing her veracity, then nodded. She wished she could turn on the lights to see if he believed her, though conversely she was thankful for the darkness to help hide her shame. He rose, his firm buttocks and thighs flexing as he bent to reach for his pants and then stepped into them. Her mouth watered and not even regret could dampen the warmth rekindling low in her belly. The urge to reach out and trace each firm curve, each corded muscle, the veins on his arms, was almost too strong to ignore. Almost.

  Then he turned and the glow from the lamp illuminated his back. Red trails ran parallel to his spine. Horrified at her lack of control, she stared at her clenched hands—hands responsible for those marks. She hadn’t responded that passionately, that uninhibitedly, ever before. Not even with Andrew. At least she hadn’t broken his skin. She wouldn’t have the additional embarrassment of having to render first aid.

  Why had Adam felt so good in her arms, inside her body—even better than the satisfying sex she’d shared with Andrew? There had to be a logical reason. Maybe her biological clock was going haywire. Or maybe the chemical cocktail released when she’d feared death had heightened her senses? Yes, that had to explain it.

  But then an old saying she’d heard echoed in her head, sending a chill across her skin. The first time you did something wrong it was a mistake. The second time it was a choice. This was the second time in five years Madison had turned to someone in desperation—trying to fill a void by filling her body with someone who had no business being there.

  Last time had been a horrible experience. In the heat of the moment she’d called her date Andrew. This time the man in her arms had been the only one in her thoughts.

  The need to escape intensified. Gathering every grain of confidence she could dredge up, she circled the bed, conscious of those hard eyes tracking her every step of the way, snatched up her robe and wrapped it around her, belting it tightly.

  “Adam, I don’t do affairs. Even if I did, one between us would be too complicated. Helen still hates me. Danny refuses to accept I won’t take over his practice. And in four weeks I’m walking out of your lives forever. This thing between us can’t continue.”

  “I agree. Tonight was a mistake.”

  She winced even though he was only echoing her sentiment. “We’re both mature adults. Let’s just forget this happened. Okay?”

  He zipped and buttoned his jeans, then faced her. Something worrisome in his eyes held her captive. “I didn’t use protection.”

  Her stomach did a crazy loop-the-loop. Panic raced through her heart, chased by an unmistakable sense of...yearning? Her hands automatically covered her stomach. A baby... Every maternal instinct she thought she’d suppressed caught wind like a sail billowing to life.

  Then reality rained down like a hailstorm. Cold and stinging. A baby would tie her to the Drakes for the rest of her life. It was one thing for her to be cast aside, but she would never allow anyone to hurt her child that way.

  Please, please, don’t let me fall pregnant. Not now.

  That would be too cruel. She was a smart woman. There were alternatives...if only she could think of them. The morning-after pill made the most sense. But where could she get one without the Quincey gossip grapevine knowing what she’d done? And could she take it?

  She tried to think rationally, calmly. “The chance of me getting pregnant is slim. There’s only twenty percent in any given cycle if a woman is trying to conceive—and we weren’t trying.”

  But doubt sprouted its ugly head. Andrew had bragged about how fertile he must have been to knock her up on the first attempt. And Adam had the same DNA.

  Adam’s mouth flattened and his nostrils flared. “You do this often enough to research that?”

  She grimaced. “No. One of my clients was having trouble getting pregnant. I did some research for her. Do you? Do this often, I mean? Do I need to worry about sexually transmitted diseases?”

  “I had a complete physical right after Dad’s diagnosis. I’m fine. You?”

  “I’m healthy.”

  He nodded. “Then you’re right. Our best bet is to forget this happened.”

  “Right.
Okay. I will if you will.” But could she do it? she asked herself as he pivoted sharply and left her room.

  Could she forget she’d had the best orgasms of her life with a man who was the spitting image of her husband? A man who wanted her out of his life almost as badly as she wanted to be gone.

  * * *

  “G’MORNING, DOC.”

  Madison jumped at the sound of June’s voice calling across the yard. She’d been so busy dreading facing Adam this morning and trying not to think about how she’d tossed and turned, unable to sleep on sheets that smelled like sex, like him, that she hadn’t heard her tenant approach. “Hi, June.”

  June, in her deputy uniform, offered a mug of coffee. “You’re up early. Checking the damage?”

  More like hiding from it. But she nodded.

  “The storm took out power to most of Quincey. Any casualties?”

  Not of the animal variety.

  Madison sipped the brew, stalling while she searched for an acceptable answer. “No orphans as far as I can see.”

  “You’re jumpy. Have trouble sleeping?”

  Another sip allowed her to avoid eye contact. “After the first branch fell, I kept waiting for trees to follow.”

  “It has been an exceptionally wet summer. I’m surprised you made it back last night. I thought your flight would be grounded.”

  If they’d stayed in Norcross, would last night have happened? “The final leg was rough and scary.”

  June’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Just thinking ahead to how busy today’s going to be.”

  “Oh. Right. The clinic.”

  Maybe she’d give Adam the spare keys and let him drive himself to the airport. She’d be in surgery all day and wouldn’t need a vehicle. That way she wouldn’t have to spend time alone with him. After the office closed she’d hitch a ride to the airport to pick up Ol’ Blue. Yeah, that would work.